


A History of Fire (A Selyse/Melisandre fic)

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 10:42:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1937859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Selyse Baratheon, now sitting on the Iron Throne, reflects on how her relationship with Melisansdre changed her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A History of Fire (A Selyse/Melisandre fic)

Selyse is retiring in her chambers after the end of a typically long day of people making demands of her.  “Will there be anything more, your grace?” her handmaiden asks.

She dismisses the handmaiden and lights her own candles, pours her own wine, and wanders out to the balcony to look out over the dark cityscape dotted with lanterns.  It is still strange and new to be sitting on the Iron Throne, with Stannis gone.  She misses her king.  Though their relationship had been largely distant and loveless for most of their marriage, toward the end, before his ship went down at sea, things had changed.  He had begun to come to her bed often, to seek not only counsel, but intimacy as well.

And it was all thanks to the workings of Lady Melisandre.  Selyse did not know where she was now, but she still remembers the night that she found herself knocking on the door of the fire priestess’s chamber, mad with wanting, and not entirely knowing what.  How Melisandre had opened the door, wearing a sheer, gauzy orange robe that left nothing to the imagination, greeting her with half-pouted lips, a quizzical look that conveyed that she really had no questions at all, and the words, “My queen?  What brings you here at this hour?”  As if she had not been expecting her.

Selyse had no answer but for a desperate, hunted look.  Melisandre had invited her in, looking upon her almost sympathetically as Selyse’s eyes raked over her body.  _How decadent it is,_ Selyse thought, at first comparing it to her own shape which was somewhat lacking in the same sort of lush curves.  _Like an overripe peach,_ and her mouth watered a bit at the thought.   Melisandre spoke gently, addressing Selyse as “my queen,” and when she took note of how uncomfortable Selyse seemed at this, she reminded her,  “But you _are_ a queen.  Your husband and daughter need you to be that. And someday the people will need you to be that.  You must find your power, and take it.  Take what you want.”

“You… you have put powder in my wine,” Selyse had shakily accused, her head feeling full of cotton.

Same strange smile, half pouting, half laughing.  “I have no need of that with you, just as I had no need of it with your king.”

With the invitation clear enough, Selyse had pulled the gauzy fabric from Melisandre’s body and let her eyes travel over it.  Trapped in a moment of hunger, panic, lust, and fear, she placed her hands on the witch’s full breasts, heavy and rich as fresh cream.  Prodded by her gentle encouragement, she found herself touching, then tasting, then claiming them, as they stood in the middle of the room with the orange fabric of the robe pooled at their feet.

She could not say how many times they bedded.  She could not say what Melisandre truly felt when pleasuring her and helping her find the hot center of her own desires.  It went on over some months while Stannis had fought for and eventually took the throne.  Til then, she had only ever known the brief, joyless procreative sex that Stannis had brought to her bed on nights when he was filled with a renewed urge to produce an heir.  These evenings with the priestess of fire were something else entirely, for there was no purpose but the sweet collision of flesh.  Selyse had half expected something more, as if the entire bed were meant to go up in flames when they lay in it; but the hot trails of Melisandre’s fingers on her skin, the texture of a warm, stiff nipple in her mouth, the copper highlights of candle flame in Melisandre’s red hair, were magic enough for so serious a woman as Selyse, finding pleasure so late in life.  Melisandre sometimes called her, “my fox queen.”

It was no mystery why Stannis had wanted her.  Selyse did, too.  One night, some while later, when she and Stannis had begun to make love more frequently and pleasurably, they’d found themselves in a hot rhythm and both at the same moment had moaned the name of Melisandre.  And what could they do but laugh together?  It was the witch’s spark that had kindled flames in them, brought them together in a joyous heat.

That togetherness was seen clearly by all.  Upon Stannis’s death, no-one questioned Selyse when she declared that she would rule until such time as Shireen was ready to ascend.  And now, it is also the witch’s spark that gives her the courage to refuse to remarry, and to soak all the noble houses for favor and fealty until such time as she feels prepared to marry her daughter to any of their sons.  The Lord has given her power, and she has taken it.  And she has Melisandre to thank.

 

 


End file.
